Just a Pucking Prank [COMPLETED]

Chapter 41 - Nothing

Lydia

The fact that he listened to me and comforted me proves his point. He was there for me, even though we're over. And he held me while I cried and unburdened myself on him. He didn't have to, but he was there for me.

Because he's a good person. That's something I hadn't counted on. All this time, I thought that he thought he was too good for me. I didn't actually think that maybe it was true.

Now, I do. I'm a mess. A fucked up mess. I'm not even sure what I'm going to do with my life. It is getting clearer and professor Turner is trying to help me. But all of last year I only did the bare minimum, so I'm not sure I'll even be able to graduate.

He just stroked my hair and let me get it all out.

I close my eyes. I never should have started anything with him. Because inevitably, I'd get hurt.

He's even nice enough to follow up with a couple of texts. He's asking if I'm ok. Because he's a better person than I am.

I don't answer.

I spend as little time as possible on campus. If I can avoid him, it won't hurt so much. Maybe.

Boy scout is a nice guy and I don't want to see the pity in his eyes as he tells me he's sorry for my loss. For what happened to me.

But I can't avoid him on Thursday. There's still a dampness in the air from the storm, but the sun is doing its best to make it all go away.

I don't want to see him, because he's the first person I've told what happened. I opened up to him and was more vulnerable than I've been with anyone. Ever. And now he's going to feel like he has to take care of me. Like my circumstances make him owe me something.

I've heard enough of it. What can I do for you? How can we make this easier for you? Tell me how to help you. My world was full of condolences and well meaning for so long. And every comment reminded me that it was all my fault.

If I hadn't begged to sit up front, my dad would have been paying more attention to the traffic. Or my mom would have seen the truck. At the very least, she would be alive now.

So, no. I don't want Wes to look at me with pity and ask what he can do for me.

It's bad enough that he knows exactly how fucked up I am. How weak I am. How I'm not worth the time of day.

I don't want his pity.

I arrive at the Den and notice several hockey players in the store. I recognise Liam and Ethan. And I think one of them is the goalie, Brick.

Please don't let it be pity. Anything but pity.

He sees me coming and leaves his teammates. I take a deep breath. What's it going to be?

His face is unreadable. He walks up to me and crosses his arms. He studies my face.

"Are you ok?"

I don't hear pity in the question.

"Why do you care?" I glance over at his friends. "And should you really be talking to me in front of people?" Some of them are looking over and I nod at them in greeting. "Maybe I should go hide in the bathroom again?" I say sarcastically. Not what I had meant to say, but I suppose once the floodgates have been opened, all the words want to come out.

He pales as I move past him.

"What?" He follows me. "I thought that's what you wanted. I couldn't care less what they know or don't know. You think it matters what they think? You're the one who never told anyone about us."

"There's nothing to tell people about." Anger is a good emotion. It keeps me standing.

He grabs my arm and spins me around to face him. God, he's much too close to me and my body longs to be even closer. He's like a magnet, pulling me in if I get close enough.

"What are you doing?" I maintain my anger. "Let go of me."

He has some anger of his own. "I want to know if you're ok?" His eyes are on fire.

I swallow. I can't escape him. He takes up all my world. I nod. "I'm fine."

"Good." He releases my arm, and I instantly regret the loss of warmth.

I blink. My brain is struggling to catch up with what just happened. To interpret what this all means.

"It's not like you care," I mutter and glare at his shoes. "I'm fucked up in so many ways-"

His fingers grab my chin and lift it, making me look at him. The grip is firm but gentler than I expected.

I focus on his lips, because I'm too confused to meet his eyes.

"Never talk about yourself like that again."

My heart beats faster. I glance up and there's something soft deep in the caramel eyes. I push his hand away.

"Why not? Why do you care?"

He doesn't answer, but a muscle in his jaw ticks.

"Wes?" one of the players, Ethan, asks. "What's going on?"

I spin around and flee to the back.

"Nothing," Wes says and there we have it. Nothing. Because that's what I was to him. He may have some misguided notion that he needs to make sure I'm ok, but in the end, all I am to him is nothing.